


What the History Books Don't Teach You

by Neverever



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Attraction, Awkward Flirting, Conventions, M/M, Pining, Undercover Missions, not season four compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13871646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: Tony might destroy his friendship with Steve when he has a strong reaction to Steve's undercover costume as a booth babe representing Stark Industries. He really does love Steve for his mind, not just the booty shorts.





	What the History Books Don't Teach You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faite/gifts).



> Written as a part of the [Stevetony Art-for-Fic & Fic-for-Art Madness](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/1866602.html).
> 
> This story was inspired by Hellogarbagetime's post of Steve as a [Stark Industries booth babe.](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/post/156591188149/okay-i-need-to-go-out-so-ill-work-on-those-last-2) [Direct link here.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/d08ae9958e996f1af95bb2be95db6a79/tumblr_inline_oklxpqsiNt1spqc43_500.png)
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> And big thanks for my beta, Arms_plutonic, and her patience with this fic.

Tony could feel his will to live fade little by little as the board meeting dragged on. He was spending the day at Stark Industries in an endless series of meetings listening to a series of updates, including major R&D problems, and a cryptic item about possible corporate espionage from his head of security. It was enough to give him a migraine.

Although maybe it was that terrible Bugle hack-job article about the Avengers that was published earlier that morning which was the reason for his migraine. The article that implied that Steve might not be all that smart after all. 

Tony estimated that Steve was easily one of the smartest people he’d ever met. No one ever got to see that side of him, and Steve actually made a point of hiding it. Tony had seen way too many Steve routines of “Gee whiz, I don’t how these new fangled phones work”. Even after Steve had reprogrammed a burner phone to disrupt Doctor Doom’s doombots. Or that time he figured out the deal with the Super Adaptoid.

Watching Steve solve a strategic problem in their last fight with MODOK was the sexiest thing that Tony had ever seen.

Immediately he sat up straight, staring ahead at the incomprehensible graph projected on the wall and pinched his arm until he banished all thoughts of Steve. Letting those thoughts take hold would lead to madness.

Pepper leaned over and whispered, “Not much longer.”

He nodded sharply. He could focus, he was a great businessman, he cared about Stark Industries. He definitely was not going to think about how smart and brave and all-around terrific Steve was. Or that last time Iron Man took Cap flying. Or how nice it would be to go on a date with Steve.

At this rate he would need to invent an electric shock-impulse device to drive all thoughts of Steve out of his mind. If he were 12, he’d be writing Steve’s name over and over with little tiny hearts around it on the empty pad in front of him. Oh, thank the universe the head of R&D wanted Tony’s opinion on the R&D strategic plan. Tony could talk about that for hours.

Some days when Tony ventured up to the sprawling Avengers living room, it was quiet and peaceful, with maybe a teammate reading or watching television. Other days, it was like walking into a war zone with Thor and Hulk playing video games at full volume and Clint shooting arrows in the ceiling as part of some unspecified experiment. Today was one of those days, and it was not helping his headache at all. And he certainly didn’t need whatever four-way shouting argument was going on with Clint, Natasha, Sam, and Bruce.

“What’s going on?” he asked Natasha as he spooned coffee into the coffee maker.

She huffed. “We’re working on a SHIELD assignment, believe it or not.”

"Is it the team-building-through-yelling assignment? Because I’ll pass.”

“No. Electronics convention in a couple of days.” She rubbed her temples. “Everyone wants to go. We’re not agreeing.” She pushed a mug over to Tony. “Pour me some. I have to get Steve.”

“Steve?”

“He’s our main operative on this.”

“An undercover mission?” Tony asked. “And _Steve’s_ your choice?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the past hour!” Clint interjected. “No one’s listening. This is Steve we’re talking about, Tasha. The guy led a special ops team through WWII dressed as the freaking flag.”

“Uh, so is this what you wanted me to wear?” asked Steve as he emerged from the bathroom.

Every single thought that Tony had in his mind shriveled up and died. Absolutely nothing in the world existed except for Steve standing right there like the heavens opened up to shine light on him in all his glory. The blood in Tony’s body rushed to one spot and it was a damn good thing that he was standing behind the kitchen counter.

“Is this the right hat?” Steve asked Natasha.

Tony blurted, “What hat?”

The hat was definitely the least of the situation — given that Steve what was wearing amounted to tight booty shorts and nothing else, except a leather strap around his shoulders that advertised Stark Industries and exposed all of Steve’s amazingly cut body. Did a hat really matter, with the view of Steve’s impossibly broad shoulders, pecs and abs to drool over, and legs that ran for miles? The booty shorts emphasized Steve’s ass in a way that made Tony feel like he was headed for hellfire and damnation by just looking.

No one could possibly even care about the hat.

“Hmmm,” Natasha mused, tapping her chin. She cared about the hat.

What was _wrong_ with her? Steve was perfect the way he was! screamed Tony’s brain and other parts.

“That’s an old one -- we need one of the new Stark hats. Tony’s got a box of them here somewhere.”

Tony’s synapses were fried. He rallied enough to ask, “Wait — what’s going on?”

Sam piped up. “We’re helping SHIELD track down a new group of techno-terrorists at the convention this weekend.”

“Oh, Got it. Steve’s the booth babe,” Tony said, putting two and two together. If Steve was going to be the booth babe, Tony could have his own private convention in his bedroom every day.

“I don’t know if Steve should do this. I still think I’m a better choice,” Scott argued.

Clint sighed in exasperation. “Steve’s the booth babe, just like Natasha planned. Sorry, Scott.”

Tony’s head whipped around Scott. “You — you thought _you_ could compete with Steve?”

“I know. Everyone already said that. I get it.” Scott said snippily. “I wanted to go. For the record, I’m not in bad shape. It’s not like Clint wasn’t arguing that he should be wearing the short shorts -- Clint, better than Steve? No way.”

He threw up his hands. “Besides, who knew Captain America was willing to stand around in his underwear for hours in public?”

“It’s a mission,” Steve said. “I’m not that bad at undercover ops.”

“You know, we need a couple of tech guys,” Sam said. “Scott and I can do that part.”

Natasha pursed her lips and looked over at Clint, who nodded. “Let’s go with that. We need Clint on the floor somehow too.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Clint said.

Natasha tugged on Steve’s straps. “Not bad looking, Steve.”

Bet he’d look even better across my bed with nothing on, Tony thought.

In slow motion, everyone turned to stare at Tony as if he had two heads while Steve blushed red from head to toe.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Tony said.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Thanks for the unwanted trip to your fantasyland.”

“I’ll just take my coffee and go,” Tony mumbled as he slunk out of the living room with the smoking remains of his dignity gathered around him.

~~~~~

Tony loved his workshop. It was his church and the source of his salvation. Especially when he could get Friday to lock the doors and block all attempts at communication. A few hours spent tinkering and inventing and he’d feel better.

Or not. He wasn’t ready to deal with this.

He could go to Tokyo for a couple of weeks to spend time with the various Stark Industries branches in that part of the world. He loved the Stark building in Tokyo -- he could live there for a while, and never come back.

He cringed, remembering Steve’s face after he pretty much propositioned the poor guy in front of the team. Maybe he could pay Attuma to invade the city. No, Nighthawk -- he could definitely bribe Nighthawk to attack the team. Nighthawk would even negotiate rates for how many Squadron Supreme members to add in on the contract.

Friday persuaded him not to make the call; in truth, she refused to put it through. Not that Tony even had Nighthawk’s number. It was probably a good thing, really.

It was just that he had never seen Steve in that kind of outfit before. He’d seen Steve in his skivvies and in his birthday suit, but those were missions. Not whatever the hell Sam, Steve and Natasha were up to. And he never thought of Steve as just a body.

Tony tinkered a bit more and a new plan sprang up. He could go to the conference to check out the mission and support the team. He didn’t do conferences all that much anymore, so he’d need a good excuse. He couldn’t tell Natasha, because she’d kill him if he ruined the mission. Well, maybe not kill him-kill him, but she’d find a way to make his life difficult enough that he’d prefer death in the end. He could find a way to show Steve that he was a team player and that he thought the world of Steve and all that jazz.

Once he decided on his plan, he went back to humming as he tinkered on a new suit. A new suit of armor always made everything better.

~~~~~

Tony had never been to a conference quite like The New York Electronics Expo. For one thing, it was tiny compared to the extravaganzas Tony usually attended. And, for another thing, the expo was open to the general public, especially the vendor showcase. Which meant that Tony had to resort to a hoodie and jeans disguise to hide his identity. It was working, for the most part. He’d been accused of looking like Tony Stark only twice so far.

He sipped his free off-brand soda and surveyed the expo. Well, actually he surveyed the only thing he cared about -- the Stark Industries booth, which filled almost an entire row. Where Steve was currently stationed handing out tchotkes and flyers.

The view was perfection, of course. With his bright smile and helpful nature, Steve came off as the nicest guy ever, who just happened to be wearing nothing but tight booty shorts, straps, and a hat. Steve talked to a few customers with sign language at one point in the afternoon and played games with bored kids. The only way he could been more perfect was if he rescued a basket of tiny kittens from a Hammer Industries booth fire.

Tony at least had the common sense to move around so he wouldn’t be labeled The Creepy Guy creeping on the Stark Industries booth guy. Except that when he returned to his usual viewing spot, he caught Natasha’s eye. She narrowed her eyes at him and frowned.

Yep, that was his cue to leave.

~~~~~

Tony spent the rest of his evening in the data crux working on plans for better training equipment. He was in the middle of fixing code when the team tramped in from the expo. He waved his coffee mug in greeting as his teammates streamed past him. Someone had given Steve sweatpants and a hoodie at some point.

“We’re ordering a ton of pizza,” Clint announced.

“So, the usual order?” Tony asked.

“Sure, whatever.” Clint dropped heavily into the chair next to Tony. “For the record, I am never doing that again. I have no idea how you manage to get through those conferences.”

Tony shrugged. “Practice. Plus I’m not usually in the vendor area.”

“I’m taking a long, hot shower,” Natasha declared. “You’re in charge of pizza,” she said to Tony.

Fortunately, Friday was already on it, dialing in the usual Avengers-minus-Thor-and-Hulk pizza order. All Tony had to do was wait for the delivery people while his teammates recovered from their strenuous day. Pizza arrived and everyone except Steve showed up in the living room.

“Maybe someone should go get Cap?” Sam asked.

Tony was halfway to the door. “I’ll get him.”

Steve had left his door open, probably because he had gone back to get something.

“Hey, Steve -- pizza’s here,” Tony announced as he walked into Steve’s suite.

He stopped short, nearly tripping over the easel. Steve was standing next to his bed, wearing only a low-slung towel, his back towards Tony. Tony gawked at the magnificent sight of water droplets slowly sliding down Steve’s beautiful, muscled back to the dip above his amazing ass. As he watched, Steve reached up and ran a hand through his drying hair, flexing his gorgeous arm as he pushed his hair into place.

"Um, yeah.” Tony was keenly aware that he was staring and probably drooling. “Pizza. Here. Got to go. Get pizza.” He kept babbling as he quickly backed out of the room.

It was good thing Tony had years of charm and good manners on his side as he sat awkwardly across from Steve, who on that night of all nights decided to wear a blue shirt and jeans to the pizza on the couch event. A blue shirt, just a touch tight across the chest and biceps and open at the neck, and for once without a white t-shirt underneath it.

The universe was testing Tony, and so far he felt he was beating the test. He breathed easier, feeling like he had been holding in his breath since the minute Steve waltzed out in his booty shoots. God, that image of Steve dancing in the booty shorts had nearly given him a heart attack.

Sam rattled on about his paper he had to write about marketing at the Expo. “I have a lot of stuff to work with,” he said reaching for a fourth piece of pizza.

“Multi-tasking? Secret spy mission and college paper all in one. Good for you,” Clint said from his reclining position on the couch.

“At the rate we’re going, Sam’s the only who is going to get something out of this mission,” Natasha said. “We have one more day of the Expo.”

Clint nudged Steve with his toe. “Up for one more day in the shorts, Cap?”

Steve shrugged as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It’s a mission.”

“Anyone up for a card game?” Tony blurted out. Anything to get his mind off of a mostly naked Steve. Or a smiling Steve. Or Steve in general. Because he was spending an alarming amount of time thinking about Steve. “Or a board game or something like that?”

Sam looked quizzically at his teammates. “Sure, I guess. We have an early start tomorrow, so whatever we play can’t be long.”

“I could play a hand or two,” Natasha agreed. “Then I have to analyze our intel --”

Steve retrieved packs of cards. “Pinochle?” he asked with a bright smile on his face.

Tony, who still had no idea why he had even suggested cards in the first, was done in again with the smile on Steve’s face. “Yeah, why not?”

The rest of team groaned. Scott smacked the back of Tony’s head. “You know why, Stark. Come on.”

It wouldn’t bother Tony if Steve cleaned their clocks at cards. He’d call it a great night if all he did was laugh and joke with Steve, who always brightened at spending time with his friends. And it really was a great night, especially when Steve brushed his shoulder against Tony’s every now and then, and that time when Steve slapped Tony’s thigh after a challenging round.

Tony wondered what would it take to get a lot more nights like this with Steve.

~~~~~

Tony stayed up after everyone went off to bed or to other things. He had a pot of coffee merrily brewing away on the data crux credenza, the Tower was quiet for once and he was all set to code until he passed out. If only Steve were sitting by the window sketching, his night would have been perfect.

Natasha asked, “Got a minute, Tony?”

“Um, sure.” She had him cornered so he couldn’t flee. “What’s up?”

“Are you going to be at the Expo tomorrow doing the skulking around the snack stand thing?”

“Well, no. Not now.”

“Good. You almost gave us away. You’re the most recognizable member of the Avengers out of uniform --”

“Except for Thor and when Bruce when he’s Hulk.”

“Besides that. What were you doing anyway? You’re not on this mission.”

“You know, just seeing how things were going.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “We’re investigating techno-terrorists.”

“And you and Steve know about techno-terrorists?”

“I’m a professional,” Natasha said through gritted teeth. “I know what I’m doing, give me that, Tony.”

“But Steve --”

“He’s a lot better than people think at these missions. Not everything he did in WWII turned up in the history books.” She peered closer at him. “Come on, Tony. Was this all about watching Steve in tight shorts?”

“Hey! I was not there to creep on Steve.”

“Well it sure as hell looked like it, Tony. Because I seriously doubt you were there to critique how I run missions.”

Tony valued his life highly and wasn’t going to risk it unnecessarily by questioning Natasha’s professionalism. “Right.”

~~~~~

Tony woke up earlier than usual and swung by the kitchen for coffee. And there was Steve in his Expo booth-babe outfit finishing off his third protein shake at the kitchen counter.

“Um, good morning,” Tony managed to stammer out. He was never going to be a normal person around Steve in that outfit. Ever.

“Last day of the Expo,” Steve replied around a mouthful of shake. “Coffee’s ready.” He pointed at the large pot, fresh and piping hot.

Tony’s desire for morning coffee evaporated in the face of the biggest challenge he had faced in his life. Standing next to a gloriously mostly naked Steve, Tony’s eyes kept slipping down to catch a glimpse of Steve’s all-but-nonexistent shorts. He fought to keep his eyes above the waistline. Although that was almost as bad, given the amazing state of Steve’s pecs. Get a grip, Stark, he told himself.

“Are you okay, Tony?” Steve asked kindly.

“Yep, fine, never better, just fueling up for a hard day’s work, you know, the kind of day that just gets harder --” Tony slammed his mouth shut, before he dug a bigger hole.

Steve looked perplexed and then finally shrugged. “Anyway, I’m looking forward to the end of the Expo.”

“Well that makes sense since everyone’s been staring at you --”

“What?”

Tony couldn’t stop his runaway tongue. “You know because you’re super hot in that outfit, and what’s better than looking than a hot man in a skimpy outfit.”

Steve’s face fell and his eyes shifted downwards. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

“Bet you were hit on a lot yesterday --”

Steve shifted away from Tony. He rinsed his glasses and put them in the dishwasher. “I should get going -- Natasha doesn’t like being late.”

“That doesn’t mean that everyone you meet is thinking about you in those shorts, you know.” Tony kept rambling on like he had completely lost his mind. “They might be thinking about your --”

A flash of pain crossed Steve’s face. “Tony, is that what you think of me?”

“No, nooooo, not at all,” Tony replied, panicking. “I mean, I think about how smart you are and how delicious your biceps are all the time. Maybe you could dress like that around the Tower more often.”

Steve fled. And to be honest, Tony couldn’t blame him.

~~~~~

Tony did not spend the day dying of embarrassment with his head in his hands. He only did that four times. He alternated that with researching how to create new identities and faking his death. Which might have worked if he wasn’t friends with two SHIELD superspies. Tony ran a hand through his hair while he weighed options about whether to quit the Avengers or try to salvage whatever was left of his friendship with Steve.

Because there was no way in hell Steve would ever go on a date with him now. All he could hope for was a scrap of friendship.

He was a grown-up, and all he needed to do was apologize to a man he was probably more than just a little in love with and who everyone thought he was creeping on for the past two days. Though he didn’t exactly trust himself to not say something awful and creepy to Steve, considering the past couple of days.

“Sir, the team is back from the Expo,” Friday announced.

Hmm, faking his death was definitely back on the agenda. Wonder if he could do it in the next fifteen minutes before the team left the showers.

~~~~~

Tony solved his problem by taking off for a couple of days until the mission was over. No Steve, so no more complete inappropriate comments aimed at what was hopefully still one of his best friends.

He arrived back at the Tower to find it empty of Avengers except for Steve, lying on the couch, watching a WWII documentary on television while reading a book. Steve was in his usual workout clothes, with a tablet and a few books on the coffee table.

“I thought you were tired of these things,” Tony said waving his hand in the direction of the TV.

“Rain delay for the Mets game.” Steve glanced at the screen. “The documentary isn’t all that bad. Wish it had a lot less flag-waving and commercials though.” Steve swung his feet over the couch to sit up. “How was the business trip?”

Tony felt intense gratitude that Steve seemed to be talking to him. “Not bad. Wish San Francisco was warmer at this time of year.”

“Tony, we have to talk about something.”

Oh, crap, here it comes. Tony froze in place ready to hear Steve tell him off. Honestly, he deserved it, and he braced for the incoming complaints.

“Um, it’s not my business, but do you think it’s really appropriate to have ‘booth babes’ for the Stark Industries booth at conventions? I talked with the other representatives and we agreed that it felt very exploitative. You would not believe what people said to us.”

“Already talked to the people responsible in Marketing about it and there will be no more booth babes or any other marketing like that.”

Steve smiled. “I hoped you’d understand.”

Tony nodded. “We should have stopped it a few years ago but, you know, sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

“Thanks.”

Tony pointed his thumb back towards the elevator. “I should go unpack --”

“It’s just us for dinner if you were looking for company. Everyone is out somewhere.”

Tony was halfway to his room when it finally dawned on him that while he had been spared Verbal Death by Steve, he wasn’t really off the hook either for his behavior. He face-palmed and groaned. Was Steve gently pointing out how badly Tony had treated him? He stopped and fiercely debated with himself about going back down to the living room and confronting Steve or going along merrily forgetting everything he said during the Expo. Steve had let him off easily.

But it was Steve. He owed _Steve_ an apology. If it was Clint, he would just send a big bag of high tech arrows.

Back downstairs, Steve was staring at the television mournfully, as it looked like the game was going to be cancelled. Tony dropped down in the chair next to the couch.

“That was fast,” Steve said.

“Look -- I’m sorry -- but --” Tony stopped, shocked that the words dried up in his throat. For days, he had been saying whatever was on the tip of his tongue. And now he couldn’t say a damn thing. He opened and shut his mouth.

Steve lifted an eyebrow.

“Was the booth babe thing about the booth babe thing, or the mission, or what people said, or something else?” Tony managed to finally get out. He ducked his head so he couldn’t see Steve’s face as he no doubt remembered what Tony said over the past few days.

Instead he got a low chuckle from Steve. “The history books don’t talk about my undercover missions during the War. Natasha thought I’d be embarrassed, but I’ve done the dog and pony show before.”

Tony was screaming internally. Here he was trying to find the words to apologize and Steve was being _nice_ about it.

“I think you’re smart,” he said. “And terrific and brave.” He was certainly going ass-backwards about apologizing. If that’s what he was doing. “An all-around great guy.”

“I think you’re the tops too, Tony.”

“What did Sam tell you about using the old-timey words?”

Steve chuckled again, a warm, enticing noise hitting Tony in all the right spots. Tony was having a hard time focusing on the whole apology thing.

“Um, yeah, right. I’ve been an ass, and I’m, um, sorry. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“An ass?”

"About the booty shorts, and all that.” Tony waved his hand in Steve’s general direction. “You know.”

“Hmm,” Steve replied. “It happens.” He swallowed and looked down at his lap. “It’s not a big deal.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Tony tried to figure out what to say. Something wasn’t right in Steve’s eyes as he turned to the television, doing his best to avoid looking at Tony.

“Steve, you’re honestly one of the smartest people I know,” Tony ventured. “That’s what I like best about you. Not how you look in booty shorts.”

Steve let out a huge sigh. “You don’t have to --”

“I _do_ have to, believe me. You’re one of my closest friends -- I’m sorry for what I said. It’s just that -- yep, need to stop talking, going to make it worse.”

“Tony.” Steve put a large, warm hand on one of Tony’s knees. He looked Tony in the eye, and Tony sat there, unable to move, terrified of what was going to happen next. “I don’t mind the attention. But I would have preferred you ask me out before drooling on me.”

Tony’s mind fuzzed to static for a few minutes. Steve. Date. Was Steve asking him out on a date? Right now? Was he hallucinating? “Are you saying --?”

“Yes.”

“But you seemed upset --”

“I liked that you noticed me. I wondered if you ever would. But --”

“I made it creepy,” Tony concluded.

“If you noticed me only because of my looks, yes.”

Now the words gushed forward. “No -- you’re smart and brilliant and brave and sweet and creative and --”

Steve put his other hand over Tony’s mouth and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Apology accepted, and I’ll let you pick the restaurant for our date tonight.”

“You did say that. I didn’t imagine it.”

“No. If we get going, we’ll have time for a walk in Central Park --”

“And to egg the Bugle’s Offices. Wait -- you didn’t hear me say that.”

There was a mischievous glimmer in Steve’s eye. “That was an awful article written about the team.”

“About you,” Tony corrected. “Still, as co-leaders of the Avengers, we cannot condone any actions against the Bugle. And Natasha and Clint would never let me live it down if I got you arrested on our first date.”

Steve laughed and stood up, pulling Tony to his feet. “If you’re very good and play your cards right, maybe you’ll get to see me in the shorts again.”

“Hmm, what if I’m very bad? Do I get to see you in them then?” Tony asked with a little eyebrow waggle.

Steve smiled coyly. “We’ll see about that.” 


End file.
